


Gemini

by bluenorth



Series: The Edmonton Oilers Birthday Series [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Birthday, Birthday Sex, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Fuckbuddies, M/M, Puppy Love, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-08 02:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11072364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluenorth/pseuds/bluenorth
Summary: Matt figures there are worse things in the world than turning 23.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A hundred million thanks and love to my beta, Lor, who not only fixed my awful punctuation but listened to my whining and complaining and held my hand through all of it. I would've given up on this without her.

Matt doesn't care too much about his birthday. It's just a day that means he's a year older and he thinks people pay ridiculous amounts of attention to that. He could do without being at the center of it, and certainly without the cringe-worthy retelling of his birth that his mother delivers at breakfast every year.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” she says when he enters the kitchen. She gives him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Matt smells pancakes, sees all of his favorite toppings lined up on the counter and figures there are worse things in the world than turning 23.

He looks at the host of new messages that have come in since he last checked. There’s nothing from Drake, but it's still fairly early. He might still be asleep. He might have forgotten. He might have better things to do today than calling his fuckbuddy to sing him a song, undoubtedly off key.

Matt doesn't care. He so doesn't care.

Breakfast is delicious and quiet until the doorbell rings and his brother goes to answer it. He returns with a shit-eating grin, hiding something behind his back.

“So Matty. Any idea who would send you these?” he asks and reveals a huge bouquet of flowers. Matt sees roses and that's about the only kind of flower he can identify, but there are more.

“Is there a card?” his sister asks, far too excited for Matt's liking.

“Nah. Matty, is there someone you wanna tell us about?”

Matt rolls his eyes. “No, definitely not,” he says. His heart beats heavily in his chest because- no.

Drake wouldn't. That's not what they are. They're not  _ boyfriends _ who send each other flowers or do other soft shit like that. Matt doesn't want that. Like, at all.

“Probably just someone on the team pulling a prank,” he says with a shrug.

His mom puts the flowers in a vase and places them on the table where Matt can smell them. It's pleasant, slightly sweet but fresh.

“Some girl must be head over heels for you,” his brother says. He never knows when to stop and Matt never knew how to handle it. Still doesn't, especially not when it's about this, this secret he keeps from all of them.

“That's enough,” his mom says, plain warning in her eyes.

Matt gets an extra helping of pancakes and drowns them in chocolate. If it's going to be this kind of day, he might as well.

 

*

 

They drive out to his grandparents’ farm in the afternoon like they always do. It's usually the one thing he really looks forward to because his gran makes the best cake and he likes to help with the animals, who don't give a crap about birthdays or flower bouquets or blond, smiling hockey players.

He gets his favorite cake and listens to his grandparents talk about what's new on the farm. It's a lot of small things that add up to so much work, Matt never understands how they do it all.

He helps his grandma clear the table and to his surprise, she points to an envelope that's stuck to the fridge with a big magnet in the shape of a star.

“That came for you in the mail today,” she says.

“Here? That's a little weird,” he replies with a frown. He doesn't recall giving this address out to anyone, certainly not for having things mailed here.

“I thought so, too. There's no return address either, so who knows.”

Matt takes the envelope off the fridge and examines it, but sure enough there's no sign of who the sender might be. It's a thick paper, though, like the ones people use for wedding invitations.

“Go on, open it,” his grandma says encouragingly. “It probably won't blow up in your face and mess up your other eyebrow.”

Matt loves her for always finding ways to make him smile.

He slides one finger underneath the seal flap and it opens easily enough, revealing a colorful, patterned lining tissue and a slightly smaller card. Anticipation pools in his stomach as he slides it out and turns it over to see if there's anything printed or written on the outside.

He finds nothing, so he flips it open. He doesn't recognize the handwriting, which isn't all that surprising, considering how few things people still write by hand now.

_ Your next present is in the barn, go find it! _

“So? What does it say and who's it from?” His grandmother is looking at him with curiosity, but Matt doesn't want to worry her by saying some stranger might have been on the farm, doing God knows what.

“Just a birthday card,” he says and slips it back into the envelope. “Probably a fan from around here who knows the farm and figured it'd get to me personally this way?”

“Oh. Well I suppose that's not too bad. Just as long as they don't all start doing it, we'd probably be drowning in letters,” she says. Matt laughs.

“I really don't think I have all that many fans who'd go through the trouble, Grannie.”

“Oh sure you do, darling,” she insists.

Matt kisses her cheek because he knows it's pointless to argue.

“I'm gonna go see if Gramps needs any help outside,” he says and leaves the house through the back door so he won't get held up by the rest of his family.

It's only a short walk to the barn and Matt sincerely hopes that whoever’s doing this is someone he knows, not some creep. Plenty of his friends know where the family farm is, so it's probably something dumb they came up with. He could even see his mom playing along with it to surprise him.

It doesn't take him long to find what he's looking for. There's a gift bag dangling from a hook next to the door and inside, he finds a nice, deep green tie and another envelope with a card that reads  _ wear this with your new suit. _

He pulls out his phone to text some of the people he thinks might be responsible. He'd suspect Oscar, who made him buy a bunch of new suits before playoffs, since apparently everything he owned looked ridiculous. Oscar's in Sweden, though.

There's a text from Drake, sent half an hour ago.

_ happy birthday, matty! _

He already knew Drake wasn't behind this. It's fine, it's good. Matt shoves the phone back in his pocket and looks at the tie in his hand. Maybe he should accidently drop it in some cow dung and ignore the whole thing.

He doesn't have enough ties, though, and he likes this one. He figures he can keep it and still ignore the rest of it. 

 

*

 

For some reason, he decides to see how the tie goes with the dark anthracite-colored suit Oscar picked out for him. It's a nice combination, but apparently he has no fashion sense to speak of, so he could be wrong.

Someone rings the doorbell and a few moments later, his mom calls him down, saying something about a visitor.

“Coming!” he calls back. He looks at himself in the mirror and it seems like he's doing this after all. He puts on shoes and makes sure his hair is behaving before he goes downstairs.

His heart does a stupid thing when he sees Drake. It feels like it jumps too high, up into his throat, and plummets to the depths of his stomach within a split second. His brain is stuck on the thought that Drake got him flowers.

“Ah, here he is,” his mom says when she sees him at the foot of the stairs.

Drake turns around where he stood talking to her. There's a big grin on his face as he raises a hand in greeting.

“Hey, birthday boy. I see you're dressed for the last part of your surprise!” His eyes wander over Matt's body and Matt suddenly feels too warm. Drake's not wearing a suit, just nice pants and a deep red shirt that looks unfairly good on him.

“Mrs. Benning, are you sure it's alright for me to kidnap him?” Drake sounds charming and polite.

“Oh, of course! I figured he'd be out tonight, you boys have fun,” she replies. She opens the front door for them and Matt convinces his feet to move through it and follow Drake to his ugly, old pick-up truck.

“Hi,” he says once he's climbed into the passenger seat.

“Ah, he speaks! I was worried you'd lost your voice,” Drake teases. He starts the car and gets them on the road, the sun setting ahead of them. Its light exposes all the dirt on Drake's windshield and makes his beard seem golden.

“Shut up, I wasn't expecting to see you.” Matt still feels caught off guard. He doesn't know what this is, what it means. Hell, he doesn't even know where they're going.

“My brother thinks those flowers were from some girl I hooked up with,” Matt says. Drake laughs, and Matt's pretty sure it's at him.

“Where are we going, anyway?”

“I'm taking you out to dinner. Italian’s your favourite, right?”

Sometimes Matt wishes Drake wouldn't remember these things. He also wishes all of this felt less like a date. They don't do dates. They hang out and they fuck and then they go back to playing CoD.

“Yeah. You know you could've just  _ asked  _ instead of hiding things at the farm?”

“Ah, Matty, but where's the fun in that?” 

 

*

 

They have dinner at a restaurant in the city. It's a nice place, but Matt is definitely overdressed. Wearing suits has never felt natural to him, so it's just another thing for which he feels out of his depth.

“Why did you make me dress up?” he asks once they've ordered.

“You look hot in a suit,” Drake replies, voice low. Matt nearly chokes on his wine.

“Oh my God,” he gets out before he has a coughing fit. Drake looks terribly smug.

They fall into an easy conversation after a while, mostly talking about what they've been up to since Drake went home for the summer. Matt doesn't have all that much to say, but Drake tells him a thousand things; random things, too. His parents are redoing the bathroom, he's going on a fishing trip with some old friends from school, he's read an actual book that wasn't a sports biography.

Matt’s always been bored by recounts of the mundane, but he listens to all of it and he loves the little details, finds that he wants to know everything Drake has done and said and thought about since they had their exit interviews.

“I've got one last present for you.” Drake slides a hotel key card past the empty dessert bowls on the table towards Matt.

It's for the Fairmont, which is incredibly fancy and just around the corner.

“What-”

“I think you should maybe head to our room first. I'll pay and follow in a bit. Room number 78.”

Matt just stares at him.

“Unless you don't want to?” Drake asks and for the first time all night he seems like he's not a hundred percent sure of what he's doing. “I kind of assumed we were still-”

“Yeah, we are,” Matt says quickly. It hangs there between them, perfect proof that Matt wants this so badly he can't even pretend to think about it for a second. “I guess at least my suit will fit in there,” he says to cover it up.

Drake's smile is downright indecent. Matt’s heart can barely take it.

“I'll see you in a few.”

 

*

 

Matt has never been in a hotel room like this. It's big and luxurious, every pillow arranged perfectly, no dinged up corners or scratches on the walls. All shiny and so perfect that not even his suit can make him feel like he belongs.

The view out the window of the river valley at sunset is spectacular. He just stands there looking at the horizon until he hears the door open.

He doesn't turn around, but soon enough arms are coming up around him from behind and Drake is pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the side of his neck.

“This is nice,” Matt says without specifying what exactly he means.

Drake hums and turns him around so he can get to Matt's mouth and slide closer to him. He pushes Matt up against the glass and kisses and grinds until their lips are puffy and they're both hard. Matt’s head swims with it, the perfection of this moment crashing down onto him like a tidal wave.

Drake is always a little pushy, doesn't like to spend too much time on foreplay, and today is no different. He seems downright impatient now, pulling Matt to the bed and getting rid of their clothes in the process, tracing every newly exposed bit of Matt’s skin with his lips.

Matt's not sure what they're going for here so he waits for Drake to take the lead and he does, guiding Matt's hand down between his legs and to his ass. This is definitely new, after a series of handjobs, blowjobs, and that one time Drake fingered him and he came too fast for it to go any further.

Matt expects to feel a tight muscle but instead, he finds a smooth, round piece of silicone.

“Oh,” he says. Suddenly, Drake's urgency makes a lot more sense. Matt has no idea how he even got through the drive and dinner with a butt plug in. It's not something Matt has tried before, and the little bit of blood still in his head rushes south at the thought of doing such a thing for Drake.

“Do you want to have a closer look?”

Drake grins at Matt when he nods. Drake turns around, gets up on his hands and knees and sticks out his ass so Matt can see the plug’s base. It's bright blue and fits snug against Drake's rim. Matt runs a finger along its edge.

He wonders how big it is, how deep it goes. How long Drake has been wearing it, if that's something he just does sometimes or if this is a special occasion. He can probably get at least a few answers here, but he has one question he wants to ask before the rest.

“Can I take it out?”

“I think that's kind of a prerequisite if you're gonna fuck me, Matty,” Drake says. He sounds amused.

Matt isn't, because  _ fuck.  _ He wants to make this so good for Drake, wants to make him light up and thank him for all he did to make this day special.

He doesn't know how, is the thing. It seems pretty straightforward but he's not sure that it is, so he just loosens the plug a little, enough to pull it out until it's widest part stretches Drake open. The plug is bigger than Matt thought it would be, almost at the same width as his dick.

He doesn't want to take it out yet and decides to try something instead. He twists the plug a little bit and pushes it back in, slowly, trying to angle it and find Drake's prostate. It takes him two more tries, but he knows he's hit home when Drake gasps out and drops to his elbows to change the angle just so.

Matt takes it as encouragement and fucks Drake with the plug, slowly increasing the pace, pulling it out almost entirely to drive it back in quickly. Drake's breathing is erratic and he muffles his moans with a pillow.

Matt wishes he wouldn't.

“Matt, Matt, stop- I don't want to- just, I want your dick, okay, so would you please just-”

Matt has a little bit of an idea of what he is doing now and Drake is asking for it - wants it so much he has his fingers wrapped around the base of his dick to stop his orgasm from hitting just yet.

“Shh, okay, okay,” he says, voice soothing, and gently eases the plug out. He places it on the cream-colored sheets, thinking for a moment that it is a shame to sully them with lube before he remembers there's going to be more of that, soon.

“How do you want-”

“This is good,” Drake replies. He curves his spine inwards and sticks his ass out further so Matt gets his meaning. He does, and gets lost in the slick surrounding Drake’s hole briefly, can’t help but slide two fingers slowly in. Drake’s so wet, so open, that Matt’s fingers are soaked when he removes them. Drake groans, low and throaty, when Matt puts them in again.

“So wet,” Matt says absently. Drake whines, pushes back against Matt’s fingers, apparently at a loss for words. “So wet for me, Drake. Like...just like a girl’s pussy.”

Drake moans, his hole contracting hard against Matt’s fingers.

“You like that?” Matt asks, fucking Drake with three fingers, now. “You like being this wet, hmm?”

“Yeah,” Drake says, “Fuck yes.”

Then, “I'm gonna come if you don't stop.” It's quiet and desperate, like he wants to come now, but it's interfering with his carefully laid out plans.

Matt loves that Drake did all of this for him, and only for him, when he would've been happy with a simple call. It'd be a shame to ruin all that effort.

He pulls his fingers out and wipes them off on the sheets, turning them a dark, dirty color. He rubs his hand up and down Drake's spine to give him a moment to come down again. He waits until Drake finally releases his own dick and takes a deep breath.

Matt starts, “I need-”

Drake crawls forward on his hands and knees slowly, opens the nightstand drawer and pulls out a box of condoms.

“Prepared for everything, didn't you,” Matt says with a dumb grin.

“‘Course.” Drake turns around and scoots closer to Matt to kiss him. He drops the condoms to the mattress in favour of wrapping his hand around Matt's dick and working it exactly right, thumb brushing over the head to smear precome everywhere.

Matt feels far too close to the edge now, in danger of letting all of Drake's good work go to waste, so he bites Drake's bottom lip and says, “Back to your knees, babe.” It comes out surprisingly bossy.

Drake licks his bottom lip, eyes deep and dark, and works his tongue into Matt's mouth one more time before he breaks away and gets back into position.

Matt tries to take his time with the condom, but  _ God _ he needs to get inside Drake now.

“Matty,” Drake whines, low and impatient.

That's all it takes for him to push in. Drake is already stretched nice and wide, and he's so wet for Matt, it's an easy slide. He doesn't hold back - can't, if he's being honest with himself.

Drake doesn't seem to mind, if the way he's pushing back against Matt is any indication. It's different than using the plug or his fingers, he has less control over the angle.

A loud and drawn out “Fuck!” from Drake tells him he's found the right spot again, so he gets his hands on Drake's hips, grips hard and goes for it. He allows himself to get lost in the slickness and the heat, the way Drake clenches around him every time he hits that spot on his way to pushing in deeper, as deep as he can.

He loses his rhythm soon, can only give Drake hard, frantic thrusts now but it's enough, enough to make Drake spill on the sheets with long moans that send Matt to his own climax.

They collapse onto the mattress together, Matt on top of Drake, every part of his body and brain heavy and satisfied. He kisses Drake's shoulder where his skin tastes salty and waits for both their heart rates to slow again.

“We should've been doing this from the start,” Drake mumbles. He shifts underneath Matt, who figures this must be getting uncomfortable for him. He pulls out and rolls off to the side, disposes of his condom by tying it up and dropping it to the ground next to the bed. He'll pick it up later, but he can't move any further than this right now.

“Mhh,” Matt hums in agreement.

Drake moves again, this time to curl up against Matt's side. He drapes his arm over Matt's stomach and draws shapes into the skin underneath Matt's arm.

Matt suddenly remembers that there's no CoD for them to go back to here. There's a TV, but they weren't watching before, so it would be weird to turn it on now. Besides, this is  _ nice _ . He likes to cuddle after a good fuck, but they've never done this and he's not sure if that's still part of the birthday extravaganza or something else entirely.

“So. What brought all this on?” It's a bad way to ask what he's really asking, Matt knows.

Drake doesn't reply right away, his brain probably still a little sluggish.

“It's your birthday, Matty,” he says eventually, with a laugh that sounds just a bit off.

He leaves Matt's side and gets up off the bed far more quickly than Matt could've managed himself. His skin feels too cold all of a sudden and he shivers a little.

“I'll take a quick shower and then I'll drive you home,” Drake says and disappears into the bathroom.

Matt watches him go and feels the way he does when a puck that should have been a goal misses the net - like an opportunity slipped through his fingers and it's all his fault.

He hates that feeling, but it makes him try harder every time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a quick one shot posted on Matt's actual birthday but it somehow became a Thing. 
> 
> Watch this space on June 20 (or like, whenever I get around to finishing the second part).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was Drake's birthday yesterday, so this is only a little bit late. Happy Expansion Draft Day, I guess?

Matt is nowhere near as much fun as Drake, so he doesn't try to come up with some clever, elaborate scheme for what he’s trying to accomplish - he simply calls Drake a few days before his birthday rolls around and asks if he wants to do something to celebrate, like a normal person would.

Drake sounds surprised, which is fair considering they haven’t really been in touch since they last saw each other, but he agrees without hesitation. Matt decides that's a good sign, promises to text Drake the details soon and pretends he’s got somewhere to be to avoid any awkwardness on the phone. He also doesn’t exactly have a plan yet, but at least he can’t back out of it now without being a total dick. He’s always worked best under pressure.

Moose looks up at him from where she’s been curled up at his feet. He only got her a day ago and he knew he would adore her, because it’s hard not to adore a puppy, but it already feels like she’s found a permanent spot in his life. When Matt leans down to pet her soft, dark fur, she quickly stands up and plants her paws against the sofa’s edge. She’s still a bit too small and uncoordinated to jump up on it. Matt gathers her into his arms and lifts her so she's sitting in his lap.

“We’re gonna make one stop on our way to your new home. Drake is gonna love you,” Matt says and laughs when she starts to lick his face. There’s a lump in his throat, though, since Moose isn’t going to get her heart broken should Drake decide that he doesn’t like her that much. Matt, on the other hand, just might.

*

It’s not a long drive from Toronto to Whitby, yet Matt already wishes he had taken his brother up on the offer to make the drive back to Edmonton with him. Moose is fussy and restless in her space in front of the driver’s seat and between keeping his eyes on the road and his hands on the wheel, Matt can’t do much to distract her. His voice seems to calm her down somewhat, so he keeps talking to her. Because he’s preoccupied with thoughts of Drake, the one-sided conversation soon turns to him.

It’s a tad weird, but he figures Moose can’t exactly rat him out to anyone, so he tells her how they met a summer ago, both a little out of their depth and trying to find their way around the NHL after playing college hockey first. How it made them allies quickly, and how glad Matt was for it. How he wasn’t going to do anything about Drake’s lovely green eyes and his cheeky, infectious smile and how his heart would skip a beat sometimes when Drake gives him a hug on the ice or slings an arm around his shoulder for no reason at all. How he couldn’t believe what was happening when Drake pinned him against his bedroom wall the night he scored his first goal and said it was his reward. How it became something, afterwards, but not quite what Matt wanted it to be.

“So now I’m trying to do something about that,” Matt finishes and stares at the house he parked in front of. It’s the address Drake gave him, a lovely family home with a nice garden out front that looks well taken care of. He can imagine Drake growing up here, playing street hockey with his brother in the driveway and wreaking havoc on the flowerbeds.

He checks his reflection in the rearview mirror and nods once before he opens the door. It causes Moose to let out a long whine before he’s even out of the car, so he hurries to get out and to the passenger side to pick her up.

“Best behaviour,” he says to her, knowing full well that she’s probably going to do whatever the hell she wants, and walks up to the front door to ring the bell. He’s secretly grateful to have his arms full of puppy because he wouldn’t know what else to do with his hands, and belatedly realizes he probably should’ve gotten Drake flowers.

“Please tell me you didn't get me a puppy as a gift,” Drake says, disbelievingly, when he opens the door. His actions indicate that he probably wouldn't mind too much - he's already standing very close so Moose can smell and lick at his hands before he scratches behind her ears. Moose wiggles in Matt's arms, eager to get at more of Drake's skin.

“Happy birthday, and no, I didn't get you a puppy,” Matt says, struggling to keep Moose still, who won't stop using her paws to push off his forearm and get towards Drake. “This is Moose, and I think she likes you better than she does me. Hold her?” He changes his hold of her so she can’t struggle free anymore.

“Who names a puppy after a freakishly tall and intimidating deer?” Drake asks with a laugh as he allows Matt to put Moose in his arms. She settles down while Drake strokes her back, apparently content with the world again. Matt tries not to take it too personally.

“Uh...me?” Matt says and shrugs. “Also like, Messier, dude.”

“You're so weird sometimes, Matty.” It’s possible Matt’s caught up in some wishful thinking, but to him it sounds like Drake’s voice is full of fondness and warmth as he says it, like some occasional weirdness is not a bad thing at all.

“Since I don’t get to keep this little lady, how do you feel about revealing your super secret plans for today?” Drake asks, not paying much attention to Matt since he’s too preoccupied with the puppy in his arms.

“Before you get your hopes up, I haven’t booked any fancy hotel rooms,” Matt says, which gets him a raised eyebrow. “I have food, though. Like, for a picnic. There’s cake, even. I thought you’d probably know somewhere we could go.”

Drake looks up, smiles brightly, and nods. “Yeah, Matty. I know a place.”

*

They have their picnic in a lovely secluded spot by the water, hidden from view by trees, their low-hanging branches heavy with thick, green leaves. It’s peaceful and quiet, just warm enough in the sun that’s shining from a cloudless sky. Moose is fascinated by the glittering water, busy exploring their stretch of shoreline and getting her paws wet, but too cautious still to go in. Matt is keeping an eye on her even though he knows that, in theory, she should be able to keep herself above water.

“So when did you get Moose?” Drake asks from where he’s sprawled out on the grass, cap pulled down far so the sun can’t blind him. He’s watching her, too, while he finishes his second piece of the chocolate cake Matt brought.

“Uh, day before yesterday. I picked her up in Toronto, actually.” Matt takes the empty plate and puts it in the picnic basket. Its contents have been severely diminished. Matt had forgotten how much Drake can eat when he wants to.

“Oh,” is all Drake says, so Matt elaborates.

“She was supposed to go to a friend of mine who lives here, but life happened and he’s moving to Europe, probably won’t have enough time to take care of her there. He knew I’ve wanted a dog for ages, so he gave me a call.”

Drake nods, non-committal, and looks out at the water with a weird stubbornness. Matt frowns, not exactly sure where he went wrong but certain that he did.

“What’s going on?” he asks and nudges Drake’s knee with his foot when he remains quiet.

“I just thought...forget it. It’s stupid.” Drake makes a gesture with his hand that could mean anything and fails to convince Matt that he doesn’t want to know why Drake is suddenly being like this.

“You tell me lots of stupid shit, so go for it,” he says, insistent. Having Drake in a foul mood clashes with his plans somewhat so if there’s a way to fix that, he’ll try.

Drake sits up and finally looks at Matt again. He seems pissed off. “I just thought you came down here for my birthday,” he says and raises his chin as if to remind Matt that he pushed for an answer to his question.

“But I did,” Matt replies, more confused now. He doesn’t get what Drake’s problem is.

“You came to pick up your dog and since you were already here you decided to drop by for my birthday.”

“That's a bit nit-picky, don’t you think?” Matt can feel himself getting more annoyed by the second. None of this is going the way he thought it would. Drake’s not being himself at all.

“There’s a difference. I came out to Edmonton just because I wanted to see you. It doesn't matter though. Shouldn’t have brought it up,” Drake says and shrugs.

Something inside Matt snaps, because it clearly matters enough to make Drake all pissed at him. “Yeah,” he snorts, “the difference is you came to Edmonton because you wanted to get laid and I’m here to tell you I’m stupidly in love with you. I’m sorry that I also happened to pick up Moose, but it’s not like I just dropped by ‘cause it was convenient or something.”

Drake stares at him, and Matt stares back. His heart is beating up a furious storm inside his chest, panic rising because this was not the plan, this was his brain short circuiting and ruining the speech he composed carefully over the past few weeks.

“You're in love with me?” Drake asks, softly. The annoyance and anger have bled out of his features.

Matt takes a deep breath. “Yeah. I guess that’s not exactly how I wanted to tell you, but yeah. And I know that’s not what we are, I know that, but I just...I just had to tell you. Mostly because I can’t do casual anymore. I’m sorry.”

“You’re aware I don’t have to fly out to Edmonton and come up with elaborate multi-part birthday gifts if I want to get laid, right?” Drake shifts to his knees and scoots closer to Matt.

“So?” Matt’s aware that Drake can probably get laid whenever he wants, but he prefers not to think about that too much.

“Oh my god, Matty,” Drake says and rolls his eyes. He places a hand against Matt’s chest, his thumb tapping against it a couple of times before he pushes Matt down into the grass. Matt’s heart is still beating a thousand times a minute as Drake hovers above him, head blocking out the sun so it’s framed by a glowing, golden halo. Matt has to close his eyes against the brightness, but he feels Drake leaning down until their lips touch.

Drake has never kissed him like this, deep and sweet, like Matt’s lips hold everything that’s dear to him. Like it’s the only thing he wants to be doing for the rest of the day or month or year. It feels incredible, sends tingling shivers down his spine and realization finally hits, the meaning of it all clearer than the skies above them.

There’s a loud splash and a surprised bark, small and high, followed by a whine and more splashing. They both scramble to get up on their feet, but Drake is faster and he’s already knee-deep in the water when Matt reaches the edge. Drake has one hand under Moose’s belly to support her while she paddles fast, her head raised high so it won’t get submerged. She’s already getting the hang of it and when Drake points her in the right direction, she swims back towards Matt and proceeds to shake out her fur, spraying him with tiny drops of water. He sits down to pet her.

“Good girl,” he says and laughs when she crawls into his lap to lean her back paws against his stomach and lick at his neck. Drake calls out for her, still ankle-deep in the lake, and she turns around again and bolts back to the water.

Matt watches them and marvels at the lightness he feels as happiness settles into his chest.

*

Matt wakes up in Drake’s bed wearing a pair of Drake’s pyjama bottoms, Drake’s arm draped across his naked back. He never wants to get up. He listens for Moose in the quietness of the house, which they have all to themselves until Drake's parents return from vacation in a few days. It seems that she is asleep still.

He shifts slightly and turns his head sideways to look at Drake. He catches him blinking his eyes shut again and smiles, moves in closer to whisper, “Good morning.”

Drake hums and hides his face in the crook of Matt’s neck. Matt works his fingers into Drake’s hair, making it messier than it already is. There was no time to shut the blinds when they came back from the lake and the room is bathed in sunlight now. Some of it is swallowed by the dark green walls and carpet. Matt takes some time to examine the relics of Drake’s youth: video game posters on the walls and hockey trophies on the shelves. It all looks surprisingly similar to his own childhood bedroom, kept almost unchanged by his parents with exception of a treadmill nobody ever really uses.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when Drake starts kissing the side of his neck, indicating that he’s fully awake at last. Matt is about to suggest breakfast, but Drake pushes himself up to straddle Matt’s hips, sending a shiver through Matt’s spine. He leans down, smiling in that way that makes his eyes sparkle and Matt’s heart flutter, and kisses Matt without even pretending to care about morning breath, like they’ve been doing this for years.

It’s different, new in the way their mouths fit together in a slow slide, none of the urgency that was there to propel them on to the predetermined purpose of each kiss they shared before. It’s more than just a stepping stone to getting naked. But, then again, they already are.

They kiss until Matt’s lips are tingling and a fresh need has pooled in his stomach and has sent enough blood south to make him half hard. Drake pulls back a little to look down at Matt, drinking him in, like he wants to commit every detail of his face to memory. Matt reaches up with his hand and runs his thumb over Drake’s lips, pink and puffy as they are.

“I love kissing you,” he says, because he does, because he can without making it weird.

Drake takes his hand and kisses his palm softly, kisses each fingertip and the inside of his wrist before he slowly guides Matt’s hand to his hips and around, between the firm curves of his ass. It’s easy to slide them further and press lightly against Drake’s rim. Drake closes his eyes, his breath hitching like Matt’s doing more than gently feeling him up.

Matt knows the lube is still out on the nightstand and he reaches for it blindly, his eyes locked with Drake’s, unable to look away for even a second. He fumbles with it for a moment before he gets it open, the little clack of the cap loud in the silence. Drake leans down again to brush his lips against Matt’s and wraps his hand around Matt’s dick. Matt gently rolls his hips up into Drake’s hand, revelling in the sensation of Drake’s firm grip.

“I love this, too,” Matt murmurs as he works one lube-slicked finger into Drake, slow and careful, taking his time to work him open before he slides in deeper, adding a second finger and a third when Drake pushes into it more.

Drake kisses the corner of his mouth and his cheeks, the space where his jaw meets his neck, while his hand works Matt until he’s fully hard. He’s rocking back against Matt’s hand, fucking himself on Matt’s fingers and Matt curls them slightly upwards to graze Drake’s prostate, just once, before he pulls out. Drake makes a low, whining sound, but Matt uses his other hand to guide their mouths back together.

They get lost in the kiss again for what might be an eternity. Almost too soon, Drake grabs Matt’s hand and guides it back to his hole.

Matt smiles. “You want this?” He asks, pushing two fingers into Drake, a little dry.

Drake whines but works into it, grabbing Matt’s lower lip between his teeth. “Fuck, yes Matty.” He doesn't break the kiss as he stretches to grab a condom from the nightstand drawer, licking into Matt's mouth while he opens the foil packaging.

He has to lean back then to roll the condom on to Matt's dick, but he stops at the beads of precome already leaking from the slit. Matt watches as Drake smears it around the crown with his thumb. He licks his lips like he wants to lean down and suck Matt off. It's a beautiful sight and it hits Matt then, that he is somehow lucky enough to have this with Drake.

Matt starts moving his fingers again and that snaps Drake out of his reverie. Matt catches his eye and Drake grins, as if he’s been caught looking at something that wasn’t meant for him. He carefully slides the condom on, fingers strong and sure.

Matt sits up and pulls Drake in to kiss him some more. He keeps fingering Drake until he’s releasing soft moans into Matt’s mouth and Matt is so hard he can barely stand the lack of friction on his dick.

“Can you go on top?” Drake asks quietly and it’s strangely vulnerable, not demanding or pushy the way it always was before. Matt smiles at him and nods, because there aren't many things he wouldn’t do for Drake if he asked him to.

“Yeah, birthday boy, I’ll do the work,” he teases, mostly to stop himself from thinking stupid things like anything and forever. He flips them around and kisses the laugh from Drake’s lips before he guides his dick inside Drake’s hole, pushing past the rim slowly.

“Fuck,” Drake breathes. Matt would agree, but Drake is hot and tight around him and forming words isn’t an option right now. It feels like coming home and at the same time, Matt doubts he’ll ever get used to it.

He starts rolling his hips, pushing a little deeper in every time until he bottoms out. He spreads Drake’s legs further apart so he can lean down to press wet kisses against Drake’s neck. He wants to give Drake a moment to adjust to the feeling, to make sure it’s not too much after last night, but Drake doesn’t seem to need it. He clenches around Matt deliberately, pushes his ass up as much as he can with Matt lying mostly on top of him and Matt takes the hint, gasping as he tries to hold on to his sanity.

He starts fucking Drake with long thrusts and takes his time to find a proper rhythm, breaking it up again and again to linger when he’s in deep to map every bit of Drake’s skin he can reach with his mouth. His right hand finds Drake’s dick and he starts jerking him off at the same languid pace.

“You’re so good, Matty,” Drake says, “so good at fucking me.” He has one hand on Matt’s hip, gripping it firmly.

Matt looks at Drake then, who has his eyes closed and his head leaned back. He’s breathing audibly, little moans escaping his lips, the sound of it enough to make heat pool in Matt’s stomach. He changes the pace, makes it harder and faster. The grip Drake has on his hips turns firm enough to bruise and Matt relishes in it, the thought that Drake will leave a mark on him. He wants that, wants so badly for the world to know this is where he belongs, wants to leave his mark on Drake, too.

He leans down and changes the angle a bit, starts rolling his hips in shorter, faster thrusts, and sucks at the skin above Drake’s collarbone until he hears Drake’s breath hitch and knows there’ll be a dark red mark there when he pulls back. Before he can, Drake suddenly gasps and comes, spilling come between their stomachs. It’s a beautiful sight that has Matt staring, but then Drake groans out for Matt to keep going, so he does.

Matt returns to his previous rhythm and with Drake still clenching tight around him, it doesn’t take long until he follows him over the edge. He rolls his hips slowly as the heat washes over him and he comes inside Drake, then rests their foreheads together.

“I love fucking you,” Matt mumbles, a belated reply to Drake’s comment. He doesn’t pull out right away, stays just where he is and gives Drake a slow, lazy kiss.

Drake sighs from deep within his chest and nudges Matt’s nose with his own just slightly.

“You can say ‘I love you’ if you want to, Matty,” Drake mumbles.

Matt smiles. “I thought we were maybe taking things slow.”

“Fuck, no.” Drake shakes his head. “I promise I’ll say it back. I can even go first, ‘cause I do, you know. I love you.”

Matt can feel the echoes of it traveling through his body and knows it’s true, just as much as it’s true that he loves Drake. So he whispers the truth against Drake’s smile and it stays there, warm and bright and perfect between them.

 


End file.
